When darkness turns into light
When pride burns away
Where flower bloom with sacrifices of those
Who went against the world one day
The blood becomes a sign of purity and rememberance
To those who couldn't live
The dreams they passed on
To the people in grief
But they are not alone
This time too shall pass
Their voice and memory will linger
In the bottom piths of our heart
Love too will bloom
In the harshest of place
Where cries and hatred will be comforted
In the most strangest of way
Words will have meanings
In the simplest of play
Where naive meets the fool
And carries its journey on the way
The world we live in
Is a world build by those who sacrificed
Their dreams and hopes
For us to live in a world of our own
Canadian warrior
Is fighting over seas
In that brutal war
That will never end
Canadian Warrior
Is throwing grenades
To their next door people
Yes they have killed
Already lots of people
Yes the Canadian warriors
Will never return home again
They are the ones who sacrificed
Their lives
So that we could have peace
Gasping leaves start falling on the distant hills
Scent of cinnamon and rich harvest prayers
Stir the silence of those gentle dewdrop tears
A voice of praise, the wind sends its chills
Impish squirrels play on the lawn, dancing together
Rhythm of hope gotten in each nut they find
Drifting from limb to limb, just as God designed
Preparing their harvests for the colder weather
As the mountains change from green to brown
Fluttering leaves dance through the frosty morn
We look to skies and see the clouds they’ve worn
Know those graceful leaves will keep falling down
After years of efforts and struggles
human beings have been able to
unfold the secrets of nature
treasured beneath the soil
in the deep oceans,underneath hill slopes
and in mountain peaks.
Only a few with dedication and determination
could reach the goal.
Penetrating through the challenges, posed by nature
efforts meet success and what is accomplished
is the mark of humanity on Earth.
The inventions give a reason for the existence
and happenings of certain phenomena on Earth.
The great personalities leave behind
a zeal to move on,a hope for existence.
What is left behind, is always an inspiration
for the generations to arrive.
The greatest mark of humanity on Earth
is the discovery of what is present,
yet unknown for centuries...
Great personalities are remembered
even after centuries, for their great contributions to mankind...
Father
You are always going
To be number 1
In my live
Also father I need you
Badly in my life
That is the whole truth
That is coming out
Of my mouth
Father don't bother calling me
A liar because that is not me
I am afraid that you are forgetting
I see you on an island
languishing under the sun
as the zephyrs dance in the palms
a ballet in the birds of paradise
plumeria and hibiscus tarry therein
parrots adorning your existence
colors shaming rainbows' end
where the pot of gold you are
now you understand the look i wear
coming home and entering the door
you draped upon the couch
the paradise i stumbled into
the sailor washed ashore
home from lost at sea
Crusoe's lot in life
an island, you languishing in the sun
excessive doting perhaps
depends how you rate kitchens, boudoirs
and editors, talent demands devotion
Oregon 10/7/26
for me there lies,
Within the lights and shadows of your eyes,
The only beauty that is never old.
Andrew Marvel
I have fallen in love
With the new country
That I call home
It is Canada
I must say
I am always safe when
I live my home first thing
In the morning
I go for a walk in to the park
There I see trees in full bloom
It also takes my breath way
Has nothing to do with Race
A Newspaper
Having a little color added
Full of words and sentences
All the news fit to print
Freedom of Speech
Reader’s attempting to reach
Goings on around the world and Washington, DC
Reality being shown
Exercising constitutional rights
That cannot and shall not be taken away
Powers in the thought
A Leader wants to change sought
All about America’s existence
Voices with virtues
Shouldn’t be a plight
Words only shading light
The open up
The truth
Liberty of Democracy.
(Recalling a World Built on Wires and Whispers )
The sunlight felt warm ,
even when it came from a screen .
I wandered through a garden
stitched from circuits ,
blooms too perfect.
Every memory loops,
repeats like a
blue-toned animation .
Was I tainting the garden,
or being tainted by it?
Mechanical plumes
I once called flowers,
never knowing the wind
was a fan behind the scenery.
Vines climbed because
the script demanded it;
trees tickled softly like
grandfather’s clock.
Childhood built on
pre-rendered wonder.
Roots whispered in
binding petals,
unfolding by algorithm ,
not season.
Paper petals,
clockwork trees
humming in circuits,
puppet sunlight spilling
over silicon soil.
Even here,
the rules begin to fail.
Floors tilt,
descend,
the law that kept
reality upright
fractures .
My mind sees the heat of summer
it feeds layers of linage drifting destinations
adrift they map into not the meticulous
but the slop moppy hodgepodge
and through each droplet
I can give myself a true art buzz
provide a pivot in my perspective
and give gripping observations
I've a dire need to drip, drip
dripping something that appears
without knowing what’s going to happen
I’ve captured summer
it's Fall, on the cusp,
inside I dance
around my canvas
with you as an arc alongside
I get so much
Satisfaction washing
God's people's feet
Also when I teach
The bible to God's
People they become
Hungry for the bible
It was God that wrote
The bible
With his holy hands
A long time ago
miles away from town
the screen door opened for me
to gentle breeze, letting in summer
escape from those who troubled me
the lake down the slope glistened
stillness and reflection of open land
while I idled and gazed at the sky
in the place I learned to wonder and dream
and each passing cloud I named
in the place learned to wonder and dream
while I idled and gazed at the sky
stillness and reflection of open land
the lake down the slope glistened
escape from those who troubled me
to a gentle breeze, letting in summer
the screen door opened for me
miles away from town
*palindrome form
By the time weather has thinned our names on stone,
by the time wedding china sleeps
beneath attic dimness
and careful hands divide
the relics of our brief occupancy,
something of us is already elsewhere.
A woman pauses once beside a river carrying snowmelt.
Years later, a child she never knew
develops a habit of lingering
near moving water, unable to explain the pull.
A man looks up from a gas station pump
to watch geese cross a bruised November sky.
Decades later, someone abandons a troubling thought
simply to follow dark wings threading the clouds.
The world administers its exchanges invisibly.
We leave traces in the grammar of other lives:
a manner of listening, a particular mercy,
the instinct to choose wonder over certainty.
These travel farther than memory,
like seeds hidden in the cuffs of a traveler’s coat.
Perhaps death is not a vanishing, not an ending
but a breaking open of these bright
unnoticed fragments entrusted to wind.
Long afterward, someone beneath
an unfamiliar constellation
will turn toward beauty
for no discernible reason,
never knowing they have wandered briefly
through the weather of another soul.
The stars nestle in the corner, beside the plump moon,
Disturbed by the sheet of inky blackness being pulled unhurriedly across the expansive sky.
The days are growing shorter, the temperature feels a little colder.
The trees are dancing amicably, a sea of red and gold leaves pirouetting towards the waiting floor.
In lively pockets throughout the globe, a festival is occurring.
One which encourages the unity of several religions;
Hinduism, Jainism, Sikhism and Buddhism too.
For five days, celebrations are rife, differing slightly, but following the same theme.
Dhanteras comes first; cleaning rituals commence, gold items must be bought,
Then comes Naraka Chaturdashi, pray for ancestral souls.
Third, is Lakshmi Puja, when the diyas are lit, clay lamps filled with oil
Allowed to burn brightly through the full moon,
Their presence an honour towards Lakshmi, bringing wealth.
Fourth is Govardhan Puja, religious ceremonies are performed.
Finally, Bhai Dooj celebrates the bond between siblings, unbreakable through strength.
Every Autumn, Diwali arrives, with colours so vibrant,
The peace and unity it creates, an inspiration to all.
High above the cobblestone and mud,
The first church towers began to rise,
Not just for bells or stone and wood,
But chasing something in the skies.
They stretched like fingers through the air,
To bridge the ground and holy height,
A quiet, lifting call to prayer,
A sudden catch of morning light.
From pointed arches, bold and new,
To sweeping curves of Baroque space,
With every age their beauty grew,
Adorning each cathedral place.
Above the streets of Paris grand,
Or standing tall in Roman air,
They anchor all the quiet land
And hold a city’s history there.
More than just timber, brick, or spire,
They mark a spot where neighbors meet,
A steady point of shared desire
Above the busy, crowded street.
And though the modern world moves fast,
Their timeless silhouettes remain
A gentle whisper from the past,
A touch of peace above the plain.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.